


I've Forgotten

by warmsummerbreeze



Category: Gregory Lestrade - Fandom, Mycroft Holmes - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mycroft and Gregory are just in love, lots of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:40:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmsummerbreeze/pseuds/warmsummerbreeze
Summary: Mycroft and Gregory's anniversaires. In which Mycroft forgets Gregory’s anniversary plans for their second anniversary. Greg is hurt but not surprised and Mycroft is just very very sorry.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mystrade - Relationship
Comments: 35
Kudos: 77





	1. My Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! I'm back already with something new! It's gonna be shorter I think than my first fic but i think it's sweet and less angst. I hope y'all enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Two Years.

Two years thus far that Mycroft and Gregory had decided to share their lives and survived it. 

Two years of discrete hugs and kisses and romantic dates and passionate nights. Mycroft would have never believed that his life would change the way it did when he shared that first, sweet, soft kiss with Gregory. And Gregory would never have dreamed of dating a Holmes, especially after his experience with a rather obnoxious Sherlock who pestered him to the world’s end. 

Somehow they had managed to fit. They made it work together. With Mycroft, time didn’t seem to pass, it was so easy being in love with him, so when Greg checked the date on the calendar on their 2nd anniversary and thought to himself,  _ already?  _ he couldn’t help the small smile that crept on his lips and the skip in his heartbeat.

Mycroft and Greg had a tradition. One they had established after the first anniversary; and that was to trade off planning anniversary celebrations every year. Their first had been Mycroft. It was lovely, Greg still remembered it as if it had happened yesterday. 

\------------------

That first anniversary, he had gotten picked up from work as usual, suspecting nothing as Mycroft did not strike him as the type of man to pull romantic gestures. That night, though, Gregory was quite pleasantly surprised. 

The car took a slightly different route than usual, though Greg at first just assumed it was due to increased traffic on the main road. He kept his eyes glued to his cell phone as he messaged an angry Sherlock in one conversation and lamented to John in another. 

Though Greg certainly did not expect Mycroft to even remember the importance of that particular Tuesday, he, himself, had still followed through with the societal tradition of purchasing an anniversary gift. 

_ That,  _ was probably one of the reasons Sherlock was being so irritating days before. He had bullied Lestrade heavily about his  _ ridiculous  _ and  _ embarrassingly pathetic  _ gestures of  _ sentimentality.  _ Greg knew not to take it to heart. Sherlock insisted, nevertheless, on helping him pick out the right gift because he claimed Lestrade himself was incapable of picking something Mycroft would genuinely enjoy.

But Greg refused profusely. He was no Holmes certainly, no Sherlock master of deduction and he was no Mycroft perfect at abso-fuckin-lutely anything, but he was a detective after all. He trusted his observation skills, which had been hyper tuned to observe Mycroft closely,  _ very closely.  _ This skill was one Lestrade quite simply  _ needed _ when he first started dating Mycroft. That was because the man simply refused to share much about himself, he was almost  _ shy _ , and it drove Greg mad; feeling like he knew nothing about the man he loved so dearly. Thus he took it upon himself to extract that information by watching closely, and learn he did.

He had been incredibly proud of the gift he had picked for Mycroft that year. Mycroft was rarely one to blatantly point out something he liked which made the job infinitely more difficult on Gregory, but he began picking up on things the ginger’s eyes lingered longer on. Or things his fingers would slowly laid upon. Mycroft spoke a language that Gregory was only starting to learn and Greg went through great lengths to translate.

_ Do you know much about quartz?  _

Really meant: I like this exquisite quartz stone and I’d like to purchase it.

_ Did you notice the detailings of that clock? _

Really meant: I like that clock, it matches perfectly with my furnishing and I’d like to purchase it.

Sometimes, though, it wasn’t so obvious.

_ The car park of this establishment is atrocious. _

Really meant: I’m willing to through a horrid and uncomfortable experience just to go into this store to look at those imported cufflinks because they match perfectly with my pocket square...and I’d like to purchase them.

_ The shade of these walls is surprisingly pleasant and calming. _

Really meant: The silk dress shirt we just passed caught my attention and I am taking my mind off of it by pointing out something irrelevant...and I’d like to purchase it.

Gregory had increasingly become more fluent in the language, despite Mycroft not knowing of his secretive ministrations. That year he dove into his research when constructing the perfect gift for the most perfect man in the world. 

It had been during their second date when he made the discovery. Mycroft had taken him to a very posh restaurant, the background music was a soothing piano tune, one that was sweet but powerful. 

_ Greg was digging into the plate of roasted potatoes and duck in front of him when he felt a slight shift under the table. The restaurant was a quiet, elegant place and the piano melody resonated crisp and clear, almost as if a live pianist was serenading them only a few feet away.  _

_ There was another twitch beneath the table, where Gregory had nestled his feet between Mycroft’s. Gregory realized as he looked up, Mycroft was ever so slightly bobbing his head to the tune, lips curving slightly as the tapping of his foot continued, barely even there.  _

_ Greg smiled and resumed his meal shaking his head slightly at his small victory.  _

_ Mycroft had liked the tune. _

It took weeks for him to find the name of the composer. He searched and searched looking tirelessly for the music that had made his lover flutter to the rhythm. Finally, he found him. Not surprisingly, Mycroft had a book which contained his pieces. Pages upon pages of sheet music that was both intact and scribbled upon with Mycroft’s handwriting. 

_ So Myc has a favorite composer I dare say,  _ Gregory had thought to himself on a particular night Mycroft was away on a work trip and he was huddling inside his massive home library at 3 in the morning. 

Greg racket through his brain trying to figure out what he could purchase as a gift with the information he had acquired. First year anniversary, the gift had to be amazing, and personal and absolutely worthy of the great Mycroft Holmes. He immersed himself in his research once more, imagining all the things that Mycroft would find interesting or pleasing. 

Randomly, whilst in mid search, Gregory landed upon it. It was perfect. A museum in Italy had broken keys belonging to the virtuoso’s 2nd piano. Piano keys that at the time were still made of rich ivory. The museum website read that it could no longer restore that particular piano and was selling the parts to interested collectors. 

The next day, Gregory placed a call to the director of the museum and purchased 2 chipped white ivory keys and 2 black ones. After some customs forms and authentication documents were filled in their entirety, the keys were shipped to Gregory’s address. 

The day they arrived at his front door was like what Christmas felt like to a small child. Gregory practically hopped in excitement as he tore open the box and carefully removed the individually wrapped keys from their bubble wrap protection. He cradled the yellowed and chipped pieces in his hands ever so gently as they had cost him a small fortune. But he couldn’t have cared less, because it was a gift for his love. 

Greg set out to find an ivory cleaner in London, one who could polish the keys back to their pearly sheen. Once back from the polisher he took the pieces to a custom jewelry worker, where he asked the keys to be turned into cufflinks. He kept one key of each color to put in a display box in the library, next to Mycroft’s grand piano. 

_ Perhaps I've gone too hard _ , he thought the night before the big day as he laid in his bed.  _ What if he gets upset I got him a gift for such a “pedestrian” celebration,  _ his mind raced as he tossed and turned in bed. Nevertheless, the next day he took the delicate oval ivory cufflinks with a thin black band on the rim and placed them into a velvet pouch inside a box he wrapped with umbrella patterned wrapping paper. He tucked the box into his briefcase to deliver to Mycroft’s after work.

\-----------------

Gregory had been wrong that first year. The car had not taken a different route to avoid the traffic. He had quickly noticed when they had driven past the area Mycroft’s home was located in and into a more desolate looking countryside. The sun was beginning to make its descent and Gregory began to grow worried,  _ where…?  _ he thought to himself as the car pulled into a small, rustic style arch way entrance which led down a small dirt path lined with fresh flowers. 

“We are here, Mr. Lestrade” the drive said politely.

Greg nodded and thanked the driver as he stepped out and closed the door behind him. The car sped off and soon he was alone, standing a few feet away from the arch. He felt his feet carry him slowly to the entrance and there he was greeted by devastatingly handsome Mycroft. 

The elder Holmes was always sharply dressed but that night...that night he looked _ impeccable _ . He stood under the arch way and  _ glowed _ as the sun’s intense orange rays cast a golden hue over the landscape. He wore a simple navy blue blazer and a crisp white dress shirt. No tie, much out of character, and one button at the top undone. His trousers matching the blazer in navy shade, tailored to his body and accentuating his long legs. He looked magnificent, through Greg’s eyes, in the more casual attire. 

Mycroft held his hand out, a small smile on his lips and his eyes soft. 

“Gregory”, Mycroft had beckoned, bringing Lestrade out of his train of thought.

Greg strode forward and took the warm hand into his, looking directly in Mycroft’s warm, blue orbs. The ginger promptly turned and pulled him down the path of flowers and soon enough Gregory noticed the rows of grape plants. A  _ vineyard. _ At the end of the path, nestled between the dense greenery and tall trees was a table for two. A bottle of wine and two glasses as well as a platter of fine cheese were laid out on the table. Behind the table was a small, rustic cabin, small puffs of smoke coming from the chimney. 

Mycroft pulled Greg into a back hug as he observed his lover take in the surroundings in pure awe. 

“Mycroft…” he began.

“Happy Anniversary, darling”, Mycroft murmured in his neck, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder. 

“This is absolutely  _ beautiful,  _ love”, Greg responded, turning in Mycroft’s embrace and kissed him gently on the lips. “Happy first year” he purred, “I hope for many more together.”

Mycroft smiled and pulled away from the embrace, strutting forward to the table and beckoning Greg with his hand. 

“Myc,” he began as he stepped forward and observed Mycroft pour the deep ruby colored wine into the delicate crystal glasses. “You look  _ stunning _ , love, and I’m here in my work clothes...I’m pretty sure this shirt has blood on it and don’t get me started on my shoes…”

Mycroft chuckled as he handed Greg the filled glass and took a sip before responding, “Gregory, dear, I wanted it to be a surprise….I know you weren’t expecting anything and if I told you to change after work it would’ve ruined everything.”

Greg only shook his head as he sipped his wine, Mycroft tugged him close by the waist and pressed a delicate kiss on his neck making Greg shiver. 

“I could care less about what you are wearing, believe it or not”, Mycroft murmured into his neck and Greg could feel his hot breath on his skin. 

“Really?”, Greg mused.

  
“Certainly”, Mycroft responded, “Sometimes my favorite look of yours is when you first wake and your beautiful hair is in absolute disarray and I know you aren’t wearing anything under the covers…” he trails off, “And then I have to leave you there as I go to work.” he finished looking into Greg’s deep chocolate eyes. 

Greg smiled leaning in to kiss Mycroft’s soft lips, and he can taste the fruity wine in the kiss. 

“You always make me feel so special, like I’m the only one that exists in the world…” Greg whispers as they pull away.

“You  _ are _ the only one that exists in  _ my  _ world”, Mycroft responds sweetly and Greg feels like he is melting into a puddle right in front of his lover. 

“So, show me around, where are we?” Greg questions excitedly.

Mycroft hums and tugs Gregory down the first row of vineyards, “This, my dearest Gregory, is my vineyard. I make custom wines here, it’s more a hobby than a personal liking for the wines. The best wines are certainly from France or Italy, but I like the process and surely they aren’t the worst, what do you think?” Mycroft says gesturing to Greg’s glass.

“You are kidding? This is delicious, certainly not cheap wine tasting.”

“I have to agree with you on that.” Mycroft responds with a smile and they walk aimlessly through the vineyards, holding hands, conversing and sipping the wine as the sun cocoons itself between the edge of the horizon and the darkening sky until it disappears and the moon is left with the task of illuminating the small vineyard. 

“Come inside with me” Mycroft holds out his free hand for Gregory to hold, “I made dinner.”

“You made dinner?” Gregory asks, amusingly walking towards the cabin with Mycroft. 

“I did. On occasion I enjoy cooking but not too often, I prefer to watch other people cook. It's quite soothing.”

Really meant: I don’t actually like cooking but I did it  _ for you,  _ Gregory thought to himself and smiled, his heart thumping in his chest at the realization of how much Mycroft cared for him.

Mycroft pushed the door open and the warmth of the fireplace quickly enveloped them both. The cabin was rustic and followed a comforting style of decor, yet it was certainly expensively furnished. Greg followed Mycroft to the dining room where the table had been set already. They sat and ate and drank and Gregory devoured the delicious roast Mycroft had prepared and could not resist endlessly praising him for the magnificent dinner. 

After the dishes were put away and 2 bottles of wine were emptied, they took a seat in the living area in front of the fireplace, eyes droopy from the wine. Greg snuggled into the crook of Mycroft’s neck, wrapping his arm around his waistline and Mycroft curling his arm around Greg’s back, resting his hand on the small of his back. He sighed contently into the silver grey locks and hummed. 

Suddenly Greg jerked up from his position earning him a confused look from Mycroft. Gregory blushed shyly and got up.

“I need to get your gift before I fall asleep.”

“My gift? You got me one?”, Mycroft pondered in disbelief.

“Yes of course I got you one love” Greg responded now slightly confused.

“I don't recall the last time I got a gift…you really didn’t have to...”, Mycroft said, voice small almost inaudible. 

Greg felt his heart ache,  _ not even for your birthday? _ he thought to himself and  _ of course not even for your birthday  _ he realized and he promised himself to make Mycroft feel special with a gift every year no matter what.

Greg offered him a small smile, “Wait here.”

Mycroft watched him as he disappeared into the main room where he had left his briefcase. When he came back he was cradling a small box neatly wrapped with a small bow on top and a tag that read:  _ Mycroft.  _ Greg sat back down next to him and placed the box gently onto Mycroft lap. He noticed his lip twitch into a tiny smile,  _ ah the wrapping paper, you like it!  _ he thought to himself and smiled. 

“Go on, open it”, Greg said, palms sweaty and hands shaking. He was unbelievably nervous, Greg had fussed for months about the gift and now was the moment of truth. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and met Mycroft’s soft gaze. 

“Whatever it is doesn’t matter, Gregory, you are my greatest gift and you getting me whatever is in this box is even more special because you went through the time and effort to pick it out...thank you” he murmured and Greg smiled gently, willing away the tears that were threatening to form.

Slowly, Mycroft undid the bow and tore away the wrapping paper. His delicate fingers opened the lid of the box and pulled out the velvet bag. 

“Wait”, Greg called out. “Before you see what’s inside you have to read this.” Gregory produced a small note from his pocket and placed it in Mycroft’s hand. Gently, he unfolded the note and read.

_ Myc, _

_ I’ve most likely already told you this but happy first year anniversary, love. You changed my life completely for the better and I cannot put into words how much you mean to me. I love you. Thank you for loving me back the way you do. I’m the luckiest man alive to have you, my darling.  _

_ You haven’t made it easy for me to know what exactly you like and don’t like. You made me work for it, and I don’t mind, love. I noticed you liked the piano piece that played on our second date, do you remember? Well the gift you are about to open is a little piece of your favorite composer. I hope you like it.  _

Mycroft gave Greg a quick glance and he opened the velvet bag, gently pouring its contents onto the palm of his hand. His eyes widened in shock. There on the palm of his hand were the two oval cufflinks.

“Is this...is this…?” Mycroft could not form his words, the man was stuttering for the first time since Greg had met him.

“It's the ivory from his second piano, an old one a museum in Italy could no longer restore. I faked being a collector and had them shipped here, polished and shaped into cufflinks, the black is from the black sharp keys. I have one white and one black key at home, just polished but left in original form so you could put them in your library for display.” Gregory explained as he pointed, “You can make sure I don’t get arrested for lying right?” he joked lightly. 

Mycroft just sat there frozen. 

“Myc..?” Greg tried to get his attention but failed. 

Mycroft finally looked up at him, his eyes glimmering with tears. 

“Gregory I cannot believe…” he started, “I cannot believe...how did you?...notice?” 

“I notice everything about you Myc…” Greg whispered, his own eyes filling with tears at the sight of his lover so utterly shocked with contentment. 

Mycroft swiftly pulled him into a hug, wrapping his long arms around Greg’s waist, kissing his neck and the top of his head. 

“Thank you” he murmured, voice thick and raw with emotion. “This is the best thing, I have ever owned.” he whispered and kissed Gregory’s soft lips. 

Greg was over the moon. That was the best compliment Mycroft Holmes had ever uttered in his life. Mycroft held one cufflink between his fingers and observed it carefully, full of awe. It was certainly a beautiful piece, the ivory looked almost marbled and the thought that his favorite composer had laid his talented fingers upon those keys once upon a time was surreal.  _ His  _ Gregory had done that for him. Mycroft felt his heart full. 

“I can surely make sure you get in no trouble for lying about your collector’s status.” Mycroft grinned and gently put the cufflinks back into their velvet pouch, placing the box on the table and pulling the love of his life into his arms once more. 

They sat there enjoying the fireplace and drinking more wine until their eyelids got heavy. Mycroft started getting up and Gregory groaned at the warm, comforting heat of his lover disappearing. Mycroft chuckled but fluidly picked Greg up from the couch and made his way into the bedroom, gently laying his lover on top of the plush sheets. They got undressed and crawled under the covers, Gregory placing his head onto Mycroft's chest again and sighing contently. Just as he was drifting off, he heard the hushed words uttered into the night. 

_ “Happy one year, my love, you are still my greatest gift”  _

  
  



	2. Greg's Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright soooooo this fic was initially just going to be 2 chapters but I am simply not donnee. I still wanted to put something out because I have written the first half so here it is. I hope y'all enjoy this first half of chapter 2, the second half I will strive to finish by the end of this week. Cheers!

Gregory would probably be the first to say that a relationship with Mycroft had not been a walk in the park. 

Mycroft was a Holmes after all, and Greg knew this. Mycroft was quite actually kind hearted, at least to Gregory, he was sweet and caring when it came to the man he loved. He also cared deeply for his brother, though that was certainly more complicated than the love he had for Gregory. He was a completely different person while in the presence of the detective inspector. A man that would unwind and love openly, without restraint. 

But Mycroft was also difficult sometimes. He would ignore Gregory for days when immersed in work. He would leave without saying a word and have Anthea deal with Gregory as if he were some client. When Mycroft was at work; nothing else mattered. It was simply more important than himself and certainly more so than Gregory. 

Greg knew to accept that, though he could not hide the fact that it hurt sometimes. It hurt when he would get off work early on Friday because of plans with Mycroft only to receive a message from Anthea, as the black car drove him home, that his beloved was  _ unavailable.  _

Boy did Greg  _ hate _ when he got the  _ unavailable  _ message. It meant more than just unable to be present, it meant unable to communicate, usually for long periods of time, weeks sometimes even months. And Greg would be lonely, because he was no Holmes, and his heart ached when in need of physical and emotional affections. 

It hurt when Gregory would wait and wait and wait for hours only for plans to get canceled and his heart to be left alone to deal with the disappointment. Nights like that often ended in Gregory draped on his couch fully dressed for some sort of date, only to have fallen asleep right then and there. Tired.

It hurt when Gregory would go to Mycroft’s for dinner only to be interrupted halfway by some threatening phone call. Mycroft would absolutely  _ have  _ to answer and brush Gregory off with a cold and curt “ _ busy”. _

He loved him nevertheless. That is what dating a Holmes was like, he and John had concluded on a random Monday night over beers at the pub. 

_ “Hey at least yours doesn’t insult you and hurt your feelings to your face” _

_ “Sometimes silence is worse, John” _

_ “Well not when it’s ‘You’re actually more useless than the rubbish bin outside, at least that houses the garbage’ when you didn’t get the milk on the way home, eh?” _

_ “He really said that?...Daft git. Well at least yours isn’t the british government” _

_ There was a pause from John and then suddenly they both burst out laughing. _

_ “Fucking hell, what are we doing?” _

_ “Hell if I know”, Greg answered, shaking his head and downing another gulp of the beer on that Mycroft-less night. _

\-----------------

Greg was sure Mycroft knew better than to pull some sort of stunt on their anniversary. He had missed birthdays, even some holidays, but the man had made a promise that the day they honored their love for each other was a day he had blocked off for festivities,  _ no matter what.  _

This year was Gregory’s turn to plan. He had it all in line and pre approved by Sherlock himself, and of course John, one week before the whole thing was to take place. 

\--------------

_ “Big day coming up, Geoff”, Sherlock mocked with a smirk, “Going to celebrate with the Mister?” _

_ “It’s Greg, Sherlock, G-R-E-G”, John replies irritated and Gregory gives him a small smile as a thank you. Sherlock could only scoff at the brief interaction between the two. _

_ “Yep!”, Greg responded cheerfully to annoy the younger Holmes, “Already got it all planned out.” _

_ “Oh is that so?”, Sherlock mused with feign interest, “Do tell, I would like to see if your pathetic and probably sub-par plans will meet the expectations of my rather hard to please brother.”  _

_ “Sherlock!”, John complained but Sherlock only rolled his eyes, John’s warnings were hardly ever warnings to him, he never cared. _

_ “Alright”, Greg said, straightening up in his chair and crossing his arms, “I’ve had this planned for months. Got a reservation for that posh place in Knightsbridge he’s been dying to go to but hasn’t because 1. He never actually does things for his own pleasure and 2. Because it’s almost impossible to reserve unless it's months in advance...the chef is rather picky about his clientele, picky with his schedule and picky about when he allows customers etc.” _

_ Sherlock raises a brow in surprise, “Knightsbridge?...this is why you’ve been taking up more shifts haven’t you, bit of a splurge there Gavin?” _

_ Greg and John sigh simultaneously but ignore Sherlock's mistake, no use in correcting him now, “Yeah I guess you could say so...Look it's the only time of the year Mycroft takes off just to be with me on our anniversary, I want it to be special.” _

_ “Alright go on”  _

_ “You know your brother when he likes something, he won’t admit it and certainly won’t act upon it so...I got us tickets to the opera for a change, never been with him but I’ve noted tons of works in his library so I thought it might be a good idea. Then we’ll go back to my place for dessert, which I will make myself.” _

_ Sherlock nods his head, expression unchanging but not mocking which was a good sign. _

_ “This year I decided for two gifts simply because I could not decide between the two. I saw he had a collection of E.M. Forster in his library but he’s missing ‘Maurice’-” _

_ “Ah yes, Father found Mycroft reading it once and took the book away...I’m guessing he never replaced it from his collection” _

_ “Yes well I found an early edition with the epilogue from this collector and I got it for him, hopefully there is enough space in the library. As for the second gift I got the glassworker who made the sitting room centerpiece to make a matching wine chiller, decanter and a new glass for his scotch because he chipped his usual one. He is rather picky about how the glass feels in his hands, I’ve come to notice, some are simply to small or too big and he gets all fidgety with them so I had his ‘ruined’ one measured” _

_ Sherlock and John stood there in stunned silence. _

_ “What?”, Greg eyed them nervously. _

_ “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this Lestrade...but...you...you…-” _

_ “You nailed it.”, John finished for him. _

_ “I...actually think my brother would enjoy every bit of this,” Sherlock said, eyes still wide, “You’ve managed to crack his code.”  _

_ Greg feels warmth all over, his cheeks flaring up blushing. It felt good to have Sherlock’s approval, but it felt even better because he already knew Mycroft was going to love all of it. He couldn't wait.  _

_ “How are you possibly going to top your next turn mate?”, John said patting his shoulder and bringing him out of his thoughts. _

_ “Topped the last gift didn’t I? Didn’t think that was possible.”  _

_ “Stop spoiling my brother, he’s going to become...soft”, Sherlock spit the last word out with distaste, adjusted his scarf and began walking away, John following him promptly. _

_ “Good luck, mate!”, John called out as Sherlock hailed them a cab, “Phone to tell me how it goes!” _

_ Greg smiled and waved back watching them slip into the cab, “You got it.” _

_ Once inside Sherlock turned to John abruptly, “I hope you aren’t expecting any of that ridiculous behavior from my part, ugh, sentiment” he grumbled.  _

_ John could only laugh, shaking his head and patting Sherlock on the thigh, “Would I truly know you if I had such expectations?” he retorted. _

_ Sherlock’s head whipped up again to look him in the eye, “I do...care about you though” Sherlock said voiced hushed and barely audible. _

_ John gave him a warm smile and looked back out the window, “I know”, he murmured. _

_ John felt a warm hand on the small of his back, gently stroking circles, and he smiled to himself because of course he knew. _

\--------------

Greg had wanted it to be just right. Their second anniversary fell on a Wednesday, Mycroft was expected to get off work at 6:30 or 7 at the latest. The night before he had instructed Mycroft’s regular driver to take him straight from work, to the address of the restaurant where Greg would be waiting. 

He had taken the day off work to finish running his errands, wrapping gifts in tiny wine bottle patterned wrapping paper and making his dessert. Greg knew Mycroft fancied cake the most, but he was far from a talented baker and settled on a custard fruit tart and red wine poached pears made with wine from Mycroft’s vineyard.

On that particular evening he decided to wear the suit Mycroft had deemed the most dashing on him. He had only worn it once, after Mycroft had gotten it for him for a special dinner party he had to attend for work. 

Greg was not one to wear the classic patterns Mycroft favoured on himself, like pinstripe, he liked things that were more casual. The suit was exquisite and just his taste. The light gray fabric complemented his graying locks perfectly and made him look brighter and younger. He wore it with the matching trousers, a crisp white dress shirt and deep blue tie. Gregory also opted last minute to wear the vest, to match with Mycroft’s style a bit, and a pocket square in the same shade as his tie.

He looked nice, certainly, but the slim fit of the suit also made him look youthful and rather appealing. He knew Mycroft would truly appreciate his choice of clothing tonight.

He grabbed his coat and keys and started making his way to the door to go meet Mycroft at the restaurant. He was giddy but incredibly nervous at the same time, felt the butterflies in his stomach like a love sick teenager. He slipped into his car, started the engine and made his way to the start of his anniversary celebration. 

\---------------

Gregory had only entered the restaurant and was being ushered to his table when he got a message from Anthea.

“ _ Mr. Lestrade I am to inform you something came up and Mr. Holmes is unavailable.” _

Greg felt his heart drop and his blood run cold. He stared at his phone as the host gestured towards his table. A million feelings came crashing down on him in that single second. There was no way something could come up, Mycroft always left Anthea in charge of any emergencies on their anniversary...unless.  _ He forgot, _ he realized to himself. 

“Sir, will you be dining with someone tonight?”, a voice pulled Greg out of his thoughts. 

“Uh...I…”, Greg stuttered over his words as he read and reread the message, heart thumping loudly in his chest a million kilometers per hour. He felt sick to his stomach. 

“Sir?”, the man inquired again.

Greg sat there stunned, in pure disbelief that he got stood up on his anniversary date.  _ Mycroft... _ he thought to himself on the verge of angry tears. He took a deep breath and smiled at the kind waiter. He’d worked so hard and pulled far too many strings as to not dine there, he was already sitting down anyway.

“No.” Greg answered smoothly, “It’s just me.”

The host nodded and smiled, bringing a single menu and wine glass. He promptly responded to Anthea. 

“ _ Unavailable? Tonight is our anniversary.” _

She was quick to respond, slight confusion evident in her message.

“ _ Mr. Holmes failed to inform me of this earlier on. It seems it must have slipped his mind for he is quite concentrated at the moment. Most likely will be out for a week.” _

Gregory groaned internally. Out of all the possible scenarios, this was not one. 

“ _ Where are you going?” _

“ _ You know I’m not at the liberty to divulge that information, Mr. Lestrade.” _

_ “Well at least tell me when.” _

_ “We are in the plane as we speak”  _ Anthea responded, “ _ I do apologize Mr. Lestrade. The driver said to contact you, I did not know you had plans. Mr. Holmes has been very busy lately, as you know, it’s easy for him to forget things outside of work. If you wish me to transmit a message to him before departure I will be happy to do so, but as you know afterwards will be impossible to reach him on his mobile.” _

_ “I don’t really know what I want say right this second.” _

_ “I’m sure he didn’t mean to, Greg” _

_ “I know, Anthea.” _

The waiter was back, patiently smiling and gesturing at the drinks menu in front of him.

“Sir, may I interest you in any of our drinks?”, he asked politely. 

“Ah yes”, Greg responded, tearing his eyes away from his phone and chucking it in his suit pocket, “I’ll start with a glass of red and a shot of gin.”

The waiter gave him a small nod and disappeared. Lestrade took in his surroundings, some men on business trips were discussing matters over drinks, some couples sweetly sharing a meal. He sighed and slumped in his chair, eyes brimming again with tears, this time his heart was heavy with disappointment.  _ All year,  _ he thought to himself  _ for this.  _

The waiter reappeared with his drink order. Greg smiled and from his sitting position brought the shot glass to his lips, swallowing the cool pine taste of the gin. He felt it burn as it trickled down his throat and he took a sip of the red wine. 

He ate a delicious filet mignon with pureed potatoes and truffle oil and skipped the dessert for he had more than plenty for one back at home. Dinner was uneventful as Greg had sulked for the vast majority of it, _alone_. He paid and though deeply saddened during his dining experience, had to admit the food had been  _ bloody  _ exquisite. 

He made his way out of the restaurant and into the crisp night. It was lively for a Wednesday, people walking about town enjoying the weather and the shimmer of the moon lit night sky. He sighed, feeling out of place among all the poshness of Knightsbridge. Gregory found a small bridge overlooking a river and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as he leaned over the railing. He let small puffs of air escape his pursed lips as he drew his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick message to Mycroft.

“ _ Happy two years, love”  _

But the message bounced back.

_ “The number you are trying to reach is not available. Please try again” _

Gregory chuckled sadly,  _ not available,  _ he took a long draw from his cigarette and finally let that tear fall freely down his cheek. Greg forwent the opera, the tickets were left unused, nestled in his suit pocket. He wiped at the tear angrily and stepped back from the railing.

Puffing out a cloud of smoke, he made his way to the pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This angst nearly killed me. I'm sorry Greg. Next chapter will be better, we get to see what happens with Mycroft. Hope y'all enjoyed!  
> Apologies if there are any mistakes, I try to catch them but fail most times.


	3. Forgive me, Darling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright ladies and gents and everyone in between. Today two of my classes got cancelled so I wrote all day and finally...I'm done! Loved writing this fic and I hope y'all will enjoy reading it. Thanks so much for the support, it means the world! ❤️❤️

Greg had a few beers in his system when he began to make his way home. He’d left his car at the restaurant and could not bring himself to go retrieve it so he headed back to the safety of his flat. Unlocking the door and slipping inside, he heard a  _ bing _ from his phone. A message from Anthea was what he could make out through his blurry vision.

“ _ Great news Mr. Lestrade, our trip was successfully short and we will be returning in two days time, Mr. Holmes is expected to arrive Friday at 4:30 p.m., would you like the car to take him directly to your original plans?” _

Greg groaned and tossed his phone on the sofa. He began pulling off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his waistcoat and loosening his tie. He stepped into his bedroom where he chucked all his night’s clothing and slipped into a pair of soft checkered pants and a loose cotton white t-shirt. He returned to the kitchen and pulled out a bar stool. Gregory warmed the wine poached pears, topped them with ice cream and accompanied them with a generous slice of fruit tart. He slid onto the stool and ate his dessert hunched over, pulling out his phone.

“ _ Thanks Anthea, but I don’t think that will be necessary. The plans were rather time sensitive.” _

“ _ Mr. Lestrade whatever it was, I'm sure I can rearrange the reservation, where were you dining?” _

Greg scoffs and responds promptly.

_ “Greg, how did you manage to get seating at this place?” _

Greg can only chuckle, Anthea was genuinely shocked given she was calling him by first name.

“ _ Pulled some strings.” _

_ “I don’t think I can arrange for this.” _

_ “I know, don’t worry about it.” _

_ “Perhaps another place?” _

_ “It won’t do.”  _

He put his phone face down on the table. Greg knew Anthea was just trying to help but in that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. He dug into the sweet pastry and the tart pears and tried to forget.

\------------------

The next day he was back at work. Boy was he dreading having to face Sherlock, he would most definitely deduce the whole thing in one go. As he felt the footsteps of both Sherlock and John he sighed, bracing himself for the harsh reminder of the utter failure his anniversary had been. 

“Lestrade!”, Sherlock called, and he turned around offering them both a small smile.

“So Mycroft didn’t show up, huh?” He said and John eyed between Sherlock and Greg, confused. 

“No.” Greg answered slightly defeated but kept a composed expression. 

“Pity.” 

“Sherlock!”, John pinched him. John stepped closer to Greg, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, “Sorry mate, you alright?”

Gregory only shrugged and lit a cigarette, “Don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“I can!” Sherlock chimed in and before John could protest, Greg urged him on.

“Go for it.” He said taking a drag from the cigarette. 

“It’s not that deep really John, look at his face so...disappointed”, Sherlock said, “Smoking, doesn’t smell of Mycroft and he had beer last night.” He concludes.

“What happened, mate?” John asks.

“Out of the country.” Greg murmurs, “Anthea texted while I was at the restaurant:  _ unavailable.”  _

John grimmanced. He knew what that meant. Sherlock just stared.

“Well what’s the case then?” He asked. To others that might’ve seemed selfish, but that was Sherlock’s way trying to distract Lestrade from the inner emotions that were eating him up. 

“Right”, Greg nodded and walked them through the scene.

He sent Anthea a quick message and got back to work.

_ “I had his gifts sent to his home, please make sure security doesn’t burn them, it's not a bomb.” _

\----------------

Greg shuffled home after a crap day at work. Sherlock had been surprisingly less irritating than usual which he appreciated because he was truly feeling so  _ down.  _ That night he got into bed and tried his best to rest, though the thought of seeing Mycroft tomorrow plagued his thoughts and robbed him of his sleep. He missed him,  _ god did he miss him,  _ he hated being like this. Greg just wanted a day with Mycroft, _one day_ all to themselves. 

He sighed and tossed and turned in bed, tomorrow he would see him again and that had him uneasy for reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint.

\---------------

Mycroft arrived promptly at the airport on Friday at 4:30 p.m. He stepped out of the airport where his driver was waiting for him in one of the signature black cars. He slipped into the vehicle and sat properly, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. 

Anthea had been acting a bit strange, stealing looks and staring at him as if something was off but the elder Holmes could not figure out what had her behaving in such a way. She had been in contact with Gregory; he knew that much, but couldn’t imagine what the issue could be. He thought of Gregory as he looked out the window. He missed his silver fox dearly, it had been a while since they had a proper meeting, only stealing light looks and touches when meeting by chance. Late night phone calls were exchanged but he wanted more,  _ they needed more.  _

When Mycroft stepped out of the car, the sun was beginning to cocoon itself between the horizon and the darkening night. He smiled and closed his eyes, basking in the sensations of this time of dusk, the golden hue of the sun radiating down on the earth. It felt warm and familiar, the time of year when winter was morphing into spring, it wasn’t hot thanks to the crisp wind blowing. Suddenly Mycroft’s eyes blew wide open. He took a deep breath, analysing the time of year more closely, it felt far too similar to the time of year when he and Gregory celebrated their anniversary. 

The realization struck him like a freight train. That’s why Anthea had been eyeing him strangely. He’d missed his anniversary. He pulled out his mobile in a hurry as he rushed down the path to the main entrance of his estate. The date that was flashing back at him only served to confirm his theory, their anniversary had been Wednesday. 

Mycroft was not a man who often panicked, if ever. Hell he’d been in situations where he’d had guns pointed to his head and he’d remained perfectly calm. Today was not one of those situations. His heart began to pound as he struggled with his keys, opening the door in a hurry and shrugging off his coat. He was about to reach for his phone again when something caught his eye. 

One big box and a smaller rectangularly wrapped box laid stacked on the coffee table. He approached slowly and noticed the wrapping paper, a small smile twitched on his lips.  _ Gregory. _ There was a small card attached to the smaller gift and he took it in his hands, carefully opening the card and reading it’s content.

_ Mycroft,  _

_ Happy Anniversary Love! Two years, I can’t believe it. Time just flew past us didn’t it? I know it’s been a while since we’ve been able to be together and I hope tonight went as perfectly as I planned.  _

_ Hope the restaurant was to our liking, love, because man was it hard to get that reservation, did it all by myself though! I’m sure we enjoyed it, the michelin star surely isn’t for nothing. Hope we liked the opera too! Can’t believe you’ve never taken me to one, you have quite the collection the library. I did my research and this one was meant to be really good, best tenor around at the moment.  _

_ Don’t even get my started on the dessert, though. I’ve fussed over it for weeks now, practiced first of course. Even took it to Sherlock and John’s for taste testing. They liked it and Mrs. Hudson too thought it was rather good so god darling do I hope you liked it as well. I’m sure you’ve told me so already. Perhaps I shouldn't have written this so in advance, but I just couldn’t wait.  _

_ I hope we had a lovely evening but it seems to me that it’s present time! I love you pieces, Myc, sometimes I don’t even know how but I do. You are my one and only, I treasure you, darling. Happy Anniversary.  _

_ Love, _

_ Your Gregory _

Mycroft held the card in his hands, heart pounding in his tight chest. Everything felt like it hurt.  _ Why,  _ he lamented to himself  _ how could I forget. _ He'd disrespected the only man who ever cared for him, who ever _loved him_ , by leaving him alone on their anniversary.  With a heavy heart he got up and took the first gift into his hands, he could feel it was a book, but he stopped himself before opening it. 

He made a dash to the door, quickly putting his coat on and grabbing his keys. He couldn't bring himself to open the gifts his lover had sure spent a lot of time and energy on without first seeing him. Mycroft checked the time: 5:30 p.m. Surely he was still at work. He rummaged through the CCTV trying to locate his lover, and there he was, standing outside the Yard smoking a cigarette on his break. 

Mycroft made a mad dash for the New Scotland Yard headquarters, no time for waiting for the black car. He quickly texted Anthea to clear both his and Gregory’s schedule for the next three business days and got back to jogging his way to Greg’s work. 

A million thoughts were dashing through his mind as he made his way to his lover.

_ Gregory. _

_ So much time spent putting the whole thing together. _

_ So much thought and care. _

_ Overtime, that’s why he was doing overtime. _

_ I’ve screwed this, definitely screwed this. _

_ How do I make this up? _

He stopped at a crosswalk and watched the cars go by impatiently. There definitely was no easy way to fix his mistake. Gregory hadn’t just put time and effort and money into their anniversary plans, he had put his heart and thought into it. He had planned it in tune with Mycroft’s likes, things he’d noticed about his lover and hung onto for him to later please him with. Mycroft couldn’t just use his money and power to gift something to Gregory, he had to sacrifice a lot more. 

His Gregory was a rather simple man. He liked things casual. He was the type to enjoy fish and chips and beer. A good football match with a friend. Action movies while having his feet propped up on the coffee table. He liked cuddling. He enjoyed solving puzzles on sunday’s while drinking tea. He would make a fuss about cooking but secretly enjoyed it very very much. When Mycroft first met Greg, he thought to himself,  _ how can a man with so little things and such simple taste be so happy and fulfilled?  _

Mycroft had grown and learnt a lot from him. He found that Gregory was the richest man in the world. That he was content with the things he had and enjoyed even if they were few and perhaps quite ordinary and pedestrian because they made him happy. At the end of the day, he would always say all he wanted was to spend more time with Mycroft. 

So Mycroft knew what he had to do. 

\-------------

He approached the Yard in a light jog, small beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. There he saw his stunning lover, finishing his cigarette and putting it out with his foot. Greg raised his head, turning back and caught a glimpse of Mycroft, standing only a few feet away, panting hard. He paused before taking a step forward, eyeing him but not saying anything.

Mycroft saw the mixed emotions play out on Greg’s face. He was happy to see him but conflicted, still angry, still _hurt_ from missing the most important date of the year. Mycroft wanted to turn back time so desperately in that moment. 

“Gregory…”, Mycroft began. Greg crossed his arms and sighed inaudibly. 

“My love, I know I’m not worthy of having you listen to me. But please stay. You’re off for the day, stay here please.” Mycroft pleaded, eyes reflecting sadness and guilt. Greg only nodded for him to continue. “I know these words aren’t enough to make up for my absence and my complete detachment from you on the date of our anniversary but; I’m sorry. I’m so deeply sorry, Gregory, I am so ashamed of myself, darling. I...I...I don’t even have an excuse, I was so caught up in things that are most definitely  _ not more important than you _ . It’s absolutely all my fault, I made a mistake I desperately wish I hadn’t made. I can’t imagine how hurt you were, how lonely, how disappointed in me and it was I who inflicted those feelings upon you. You deserve better than that. _So much better._ ”

Greg’s eyes widened and Mycroft stepped forward until he was almost  _ just almost  _ touching him, he sensed his lover’s worry. 

“Please let me try. Again. I promise you I won’t fail you like this again Gregory. I’ve made you believe that my job is more important than you and your feelings. I refuse to believe that that is true anymore. You’ve changed me and I cherish you, my sweetness. I...I...you...went through all that trouble just for  _ me.  _ No one has ever done that before, I don’t deserve you.”

Greg only shakes his head lightly and steps even closer, pressing his palm against Mycroft’s heart and leaning his head against his chest. 

“I didn’t get you anything, darling, other than my usual travel gift. I’m so sorry. And I know surely you went through a lot of trouble finding the gifts you did for me, because you care about me and notice things no one ever cares to notice. And I care about you too, deeply, my heart. So...here.” Mycroft pulls something out of his pocket. A single key. 

Gregory pulls back and takes the key into his palm. He looks back up at Mycroft, confusion written all over his features. 

“It’s...it’s the key to the cabinet that stores Anthea’s scheduling phone. It’s yours now, for whenever you need me. I’ll be there, no excuses and no exceptions. Just say when and I’ll cancel or move all my plans, Anthea will take care of it. You...you are more important to me now, Gregory.” Mycroft takes his face into his hands and gently rubs his thumbs over Greg’s slowly falling tears, “I know it doesn’t amend what I did, but I hope...it’s a start. I’ll promise to do better, my love.” he finished softly. 

Greg was overcome with emotion. Mycroft Holmes was giving him the key to his freedom, it was at his hands now. He knew how much it must’ve taken for him to be able to make that decision and his heart swelled at the thought that Mycroft cared so much about him that he was able to sacrifice that. Greg smiled at him and slipped the key into his pocket before leaning into Mycroft's arms again. Hiding his face in the crook of his neck, smelling the familiar scent of Mycroft’s posh cologne and resting his arms around his neck. Mycroft pulls him closer by the waist and rests his head onto Greg's silvery locks. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs again. 

“You got one more chance”, Mycroft hears Greg’s muffled voice.

“I won’t take it for granted, won’t mess it up” he says softly, kissing his hair. 

Greg pulls back from the embrace gently, looking into Mycroft’s blue orbs, “So...didya like your gifts?”

“I didn’t open them”, Mycroft admits. “I couldn’t...without seeing you first. But I read the card” he murmurs softly.

Gregory offers his hand and Mycroft takes it, bringing it up to his lips and kissing his knuckles one by one. “Back to yours then?”

“Yes, we can order dinner, shall I call for a car?” 

“No, lets walk.”

\---------------

Walk they did. Took a nice, slow stroll down the streets on a quiet, clear London night. They held hands and conversed like they had at the vineyard, enjoying the soft glow of the moonlight. Gregory spotted a nice cafe and they stopped by to pick up some fresh baguettes and a rich chocolate layered cake. When they had finally made it back to Mycroft’s it was close to 10. 

“Wow, a bit late. Lost track of time,” Greg mentioned as Mycroft jingled his keys and opened the door. 

“Not to worry, my beautiful, schedule is cleared until Wednesday”, Mycroft retorted, pushing the door open and holding it open for Greg. 

“Right,” Greg smiled and visibly relaxed. He set their cake and bread down and moved to wrap his arms around Mycroft’s waist. 

“What did you bring me back?”, he asked sweetly, pecking Mycroft’s lips softly. 

“Went to Japan, it’s nothing special really. But I hope you like it. It’s obviously not your anniversary gift though, that shall be something better.” Greg only shook his head.

“You already gave me my anniversary gift, love.” He murmured as Mycroft dug through his briefcase and pulled out a small black box. 

“Nonsense, Gregory.” Mycroft responded, “That is simply not enough.” 

“It is for me”, Greg responded.

“No, no. I shall make it up to you I promised.” He said and placed a soft kiss on Greg’s cheek as he placed the black box in his hand.

Gregory removed the lid and lifted the delicate silver chain from the box. It was a rectangular shaped locket, very elegant and simple. He popped it open with his fingers and smiled, a small dried four leafed clover and on the opposite side was a picture of Mycroft. Greg smiled, running his finger over the glass panels of the locket before closing it shut. 

“Picked it myself”, Mycroft murmured, “I’ve heard they’re lucky...and I consider myself quite lucky to have found you.” 

“Myc, I love it.” Gregory smiles even wider, opening the clasp and putting the silver chain around his neck, “Seriously this is lovely, I can carry with me always now.”

“Yes when I have to be away...I’m never truly too far, my dear, I’m always with you. You exist in my thoughts and in my dreams.” Greg leans in for a soft kiss full of gratitude. 

“Now open yours”, He says, pulling away, picking up the smaller gift first. 

Mycroft smiles and takes it into his hands, smiling at the wrapping paper before tearing it open. His eyes widen upon seeing the cover of the book and its condition,  _ no way,  _ he thinks. 

“Gregory...how...how you always manage to impress me I will never truly understand.” He says voice filled with awe as he pulls the book onto his lap, gently brushing over the worn pages. “It even has the epilogue”, he murmurs astonishedly. 

“Yes.” Greg chuckles, “it’s missing from your collection.”

“Yes, Father took it away when he caught me reading it when I was younger,” Mycroft said with a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“I’m sorry love, was this a bad thing?” Greg inquired, fidgeting with his fingers.

“No, no. Not at all. It’s actually perfect. This book, it...changed me. I held it very close to my heart for a long time but could not bring myself to buy it again. Thank you, darling. It’s absolutely brilliant.” Mycroft concludes by pressing a kiss to Greg’s lips. 

“How could you have possibly gotten me more? This is the best gift as it is” Mycroft says bemused. 

“Couldn’t pick between the two...perhaps I got a little carried away but I couldn’t help myself.”

Mycroft is promptly tearing through the wrapping paper of the bigger box, he lifts the lid and nestled in the velvety inside of the box lie three delicate glass pieces by his favorite glass worker. The first is a wine chiller, the second a decanter and the smallest a single class for his liquor. 

“Gregory…” Mycroft calls out, breathless. “My love…”, he lifts the glass into his hand. It’s a comfortable grip, just how he likes it. He stands and goes over to his small bar, taking his favorite chipped glass into his hand. 

“You...you got it just right.” 

“Had it measured, you’re so finicky about the size of your glasses.”

Mycroft sets his new glass down in replacement of his old and strides to Gregory, gathering the smaller man into his arms. 

“You are too good to me”, he whispers into his neck, his hot breath making Greg shiver, “I certainly don’t deserve to have your affections, Gregory, you are far too kind, your heart is so pure and loving and I’m just a big grump.” 

He feels Greg shake his head in protest, “No you’re not. You love me too, I know you do.”

“Course I do, with every fiber of my being.” 

“So no more ‘You’re too good to me’ nonsense.” Greg says with finality. 

“Thank you.” Mycroft says, “These are absolutely stunning, you know me so well, like no one has ever before.” 

“Except Sherlock.”

Mycroft scoffs, “Sherlock couldn’t have come up with a better plan in a million years, seriously.”

Greg chuckles and moves to the sofa, patting the space next to him beckoning Mycroft. The elder Holmes smiles and sits next to Gregory, wrapping an arm around his waist pulling flush to his chest. Greg hums contently and places his palm over Mycroft’s heart, laying his head on his chest and closing his eyes. 

“How would you like to spend our weekend off, my sweetness?” Mycroft questions, hand creeping its way up to play with Gregory’s silver locks.

“Hmmm,” Greg hums in response, “You’ll take me anywhere I wanna go?”

“Just say the word”

“What if I say the moon?”

“Something of the sort can be arranged.”

“And if I want you to bring me down a star while we’re up there?”

“I would do it for you, darling”   
  


“Even if it burns your hand when you touch it?” 

“It would’ve been for you,  _ only you.”  _ Mycroft purrs and kisses his head.

“Wait if I told you I want to go to France and stay at a small rustic villa where we could spend our days by the river and our mornings at a tiny cafe, sipping coffee and eating bread with butter?”

“That can certainly be arranged.”

“And we could watch telly until our eyes fell out and I would cook and bake-, You must try my wine poached pears Myc...you seriously missed out on the fruit tart too.” 

“I can’t possibly imagine how mouth watering it must’ve been, I regret not being there to savor it’s flavor” 

“You bet your ass it was good, even Sherlock ate it.”

Greg feels the vibration of Mycroft’s laugh as he continues his gentle stroking, “Darling if Sherlock ate it then it must’ve been fit for even the queen herself, better than good, absolutely  _ delectable _ .”

“Well you know, it was mainly John stuffing it in his mouth but he didn’t seem to complain once he was chewing on it.” Greg feels another wave of vibration and laughs himself. 

“When shall we leave?” Mycroft asks his lover.

“Tomorrow at dusk?”

“I’ll have it arranged, anything else you wish for,  _ mon coeur?”  _

“My grey suit to dry cleaned? It smells probably like cigarette smoke and beer.”

“That is certainly an easy fix my darling, I can always get you a new one as well. Anything else you’d like for our trip?”

“Just you, love, you and all the love you’ve got to give.”

  
  


“Fine, keep your secrets” Mycroft smirks, “Making me work for what you want, I see. That’s fair. Leave it to me, darling, it shall go splendidly.” 

Greg laughs and hit Mycroft’s chest, “Alright but among those things please also  _ arrange _ for-”

“No, no Gregory, you shall not give me even the faintest idea.” 

“Alright fine. But that chocolate brown suede jacket I saw the other day certainly looked nice…”

“Gregory…” Mycroft warned and Greg lifted his hands up in surrender.

“Fine.”

They sat in the warm of their embrace for a few more minutes, basking in the comfort. Mycroft’s voice breaks the silence after a moment.

“Are you hungry, darling?”

“I’d love some dinner, yes.”

“I’ll place an order,” Mycroft says, rising from the sofa and pulling out his phone. Greg hisses as the cold and gets up as well returning to Mycroft’s side as he orders their dinner on the phone. Once he hangs up he places a comforting hand on the small of Greg’s back.

“Shall we get packing,  _ mon chéri?”  _

Greg smiles and places a soft kiss in the crook of Mycroft’s neck.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “We shall.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright did y'all think? Did you like the ending? Let me know 🥺Thanks again for reading as always!! ❤️  
> Fun Fact!: The book, 'Maurice' by E.M. Forster was turned into a movie in which Greg (Rupert Graves) played Alec! I've heard the book is lovely but I have not read it, but in case y'all want to see a young Greg (pre-silver fox status) there you go!


End file.
